


After-Effects

by Ramasi



Series: Destiny and Lying Dragons [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 01, oblivious!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-15
Updated: 2009-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramasi/pseuds/Ramasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has just, in the wake of the debacle with Sophia, figured out that he's hopelessly in love, when Arthur's behaviour suddenly gets a bit erratic, what with the random "thank you"s and the presents and all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After-Effects

It's not that Merlin -plans- these things, really, it's not. He's always kept his magic a secret, and that's never been as vital as here, he's been brutally made aware of that fact within the first hour of his stay in Camelot. So no, he's not planned to stand up the only son of Uther Pendragon and get out of it with magic, he's not an idiot – but. But maybe it'd be wrong to say his magic, the knowledge of his magic, had nothing to do with it: there's this amazing, secret power within him, and while he wouldn't be acting differently if it vanished, the _habit_ of it probably makes him bolder than he might otherwise be – as long as he doesn't stop to think.

If he'd been aware of that, he might even have caught the exact moment when, after he'd found out that while Arthur was just as much of an arse as he first appeared to be, maybe the dragon wasn't completely out of it when he said he'd be a great king – the best there'd ever been – one day as well, this routine carelessness shifted to trust; because really, the worse that'd ever happen to him when he was being "insubordinate" to Arthur were a bunch of insults being thrown at him, or having to do seriously annoying tasks (and if he didn't know better, he'd swear Arthur knew which ones he couldn't do by magic) more often than strictly necessary, and Arthur _was_ an arse, so maybe his own behaviour didn't even enter on these.

In short, there was no reason to try and change his behaviour. And aside from the bit where he had to save Arthur from magical doom every other week – and according to the dragon, he'd have to do that _anyway_ , so it was probably a good thing he had an excuse to hang around the prince so often – being Arthur's manservant wasn't all that bad.

And then, just when he'd settled into a kind of routine and regained the enthusiasm that had wavered after he'd witnessed that man's execution on his very first day and been given his reward for saving the prince's life, Arthur was starting to get weird. As in, friendly. It was spooky, really.

Maybe, Merlin thought at first, it was just the after-effect of Sophia's spell. He could find nothing about such a thing in the books, but you never knew. Or maybe it was him seeing things differently, now that the incident had made him brutally aware of feelings he'd successfully banished to some unacknowledged recesses of his mind; feelings which came down to him really, really liking Arthur. It was ridiculous that this would become clear to him through an adventure in which not only Arthur had acted like the prat he was, but during which he, Merlin, had done whatever he could to enable Arthur to spend time with the girl he fancied. Certainly, this wasn't something you did when you were in love yourself? (Sophia was, to him, anonymous, a non-person you could easily replace in your mind, but the thought that he might have been _projecting_ was simply too sad to entertain.)

Of course, there was the discovery that it was probably good for him that Arthur was such a huge prat most of the time, because it appeared that he, Merlin, was completely helpless in the face of any kind of friendliness; he could say no when Arthur's demands got ridiculous, and that seemed to shock everyone around them, but Arthur came to him with a request and a "I'll be your friend for life" and "I won't forget it" – and maybe Merlin would have put Arthur's changed behaviour down to this promise if it weren't for the fact that Arthur didn't forget it insofar as he made him do the same twice shortly thereafter, and one of them had been after he'd been healed of Sophia's enchantment – and he was done for.

It really hadn't helped that when he'd told the dragon about the whole thing, the latter had commented how "Arthur's love for him was stronger than the enchantment", and how said enchantment would have been broken if Sophia had not switched it to full control of the body that subdued the mind completely, and kept drawing parallels between him and Sophia that made it all seem like a bitch-fight with someone almost drowning at the end.

Thinking about it, a lot of the things the dragon said were a little suspect, when you looked at them from a certain angle.

He was rummaging through Arthur's room trying to look busy – he'd do the actual work when Arthur left, with magic, and was going to have the rest of the day free for practicing with Gaius, because Arthur was stuck in a conference for the day – when Arthur, who'd been sitting by the table, gloomily picking at his food, suddenly said:

"I'm going hunting."

Merlin jumped and turned round. Arthur had sat up straight, and looked ready to jump to his feet.

"What, _now_?"

"What do you think?" Arthur snapped, but without much bite. "Of course now."

"You can't," Merlin said, a little alarmed, because Arthur didn't just forget about things like that. "You have a meeting with – "

"I know," Arthur interrupted, annoyed, which was lucky because Merlin had no idea who the meeting was with anyway. Then the prince paused, gave him a look, and added: "I thought – maybe you could cover for me?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea, after what happened last time?" Merlin asked, despite Arthur's repeated order to never ever mention this whole thing again; but Merlin was thinking about Arthur almost having his soul stolen and drowning, not Arthur having a somewhat humiliating adventure, so it was quite unfair of him to glare at him like that.

"It's just hunting," Arthur said, eventually, with an air of strained patience, then looked away. "I really need to clear my head."

Merlin sighed deeply, and said: "alright."

So Arthur got ready – he could dress himself very fast, when he wanted to – and left, shouting:

"Thanks, try not to get yourself thrown in the stocks for once!" at him.

Which, he did try, but there was nothing to be done about it; it might even have been worse if Arthur hadn't apparently succeeded in convincing his father that he had a chronic mental disease and it wasn't his fault.

Still, there _should_ be rules about potatoes, and he was never going to get the strain out of his shirt, even with magic, and so he glared at Arthur when the latter waltzed into the room late in the evening, looking much better than in the morning, and smiling brightly at him.

"I just want you to know that I spent half of the day in the stocks for you," Merlin remarked, and added: "again."

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur said, and the thing was, Arthur could say "you idiot" in such a way as to convey that what he really meant was "thank you, Merlin" so clearly that Merlin felt everything that needed saying had been said, and more, but he could also say "thank you, Merlin" in a tone that got across "you idiot" just as unambiguously. It was a skill. Merlin was thinking that maybe he had been right in supposing the prince had been _learning_ to be a prat, and for quite a while too. Maybe it came from growing up with Morgana.

The problem with that was that it was difficult to argue back against it, so Merlin was about to get out of that impasse by simply insulting Arthur, before Arthur could, like it looked he would, judging by the circular look he sent through the room, stupidly ask how it was possible he hadn't cleaned his room even though he knew he'd been in the stocks for a good part of the day, because that was just how Arthur was, when the prince said instead:

"And could you please clean up here tomorrow?"

Merlin stared. Just when he'd been sure Arthur was back to annoying but comfortingly familiar prattishness.

"Did you just _ask_ me if I can clean up? _Please?_ "

Arthur frowned at him, as if he honestly couldn't see what was weird about that:

"It's not that difficult a question," he said.

"Yes, alright," Merlin managed to say, figuring that he should be encouraging that kind of behaviour.

Arthur's smile was, as far as Merlin could tell, completely void of irony.

"Thank you," he said.

Merlin's mouth gaped open.

 

And then, there were the presents. Only a few days later, during which Arthur had not stopped switching back and forth between companionable prattishness and weird politeness, Arthur came in when Merlin had just finished tidying up his room, said "here", and threw something at him in passing before sinking down on his throne-like chair.

Merlin just barely managed to catch the thing, and only because the chain got entangled on his fingers: it was a medallion, smooth on one side and with the Pendragon crest on the other. Merlin turned it between his fingers, bewildered. He'd never seen it before, and he was pretty sure he knew most of Arthur's possessions by now, from having to look after them all day.

"What do you want me to do with it?" he asked Arthur, who'd sat down on his furred chair and poured the water that Merlin had actually gotten here for himself, because it was warm and while tidying up with magic wasn't physically exhausting, it did give you a dry throat, into his goblet.

The prince had been looking into space, but turned back to him at that, eyebrows furrowed

"You put the chain around your neck," he said, slowly. "Really, I thought even you would be able to figure that out."

"I – I know what –" Merlin let his hand sink and glared. "What am _I_ supposed to do with it?" Arthur put his cup down just so he could rub his forehead in a despairing manner. "What is it, anyway? I've never seen this before."

"It's a present," Arthur said slowly; Merlin blinked.

"For –"

"For you," the prince snapped. "From me. You idiot," he added, after a moment, in an afterthought.

"Oh," said Merlin, blankly, which possibly wasn't the most appropriate response to being given a medallion with the crowns prince's crest emblazoned on it by said crown prince in person, but really, Merlin suspected that neither was giving them to manservants, so Arthur couldn't really blame him. "It... Thank you," he added, a little dumbfounded.

"You're welcome," said Arthur, leaning back on his chair, and watching him questioningly.

"It looks expensive," Merlin added. "It's not gold, is it?" he asked, a little panicked.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"It's bronze, it doesn't even look golden – what, are you planning to sell it?" Merlin opened his mouth to explain that this was not how he meant it, and how, incidentally, he hadn't come across actual gold so often in his life that he could immediately recognise it, when Arthur's face changed briskly, and he asked: "Do you need money?"

"What?" asked Merlin. "No, I wasn't –"

He instinctively backed away against the windowsill when Arthur briskly stood up and approached him.

"You aren't starving, are you?" Arthur waved a hand around and came even closer, invading Merlin's personal space. "You've always been skinny..."

"No," Merlin said quickly, and stared at Arthur, transfixed; he was used enough to his constant presence (not to mention the dressing, and the bathing, and alright, these had been easier before Sophia and his realisation) not to have extreme reactions to it all the time, but it was entirely unfair of Arthur to go mindlessly intense on him like that without warning. Even while being completely stupid, Merlin reminded himself, as a way to distract himself of the closeness of Arthur's full lips, and the way he could almost feel him, the familiar presence of his body suddenly more overbearing than during casual touch. "No, I'm not starving," he added, with emphasis; he didn't want to have that whole conversation about how it was his privilege to eat Arthur's leftovers again.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, and prodded him against the ribs.

Merlin squirmed, both from the tickling sensation and from fighting the sudden urge to reach out and touch the prince, which he would just have done, usually, but wasn't quite sure he'd be able to _stop_ doing if he started right now.

"Yes." He breathed out when Arthur stepped back a little, still looking sceptic. "And I don't want to sell it," he added, holding up the medallion.

"Right," said Arthur slowly, and turned away briskly; Merlin was pretty sure he gave him some order too, but he wasn't paying attention, and when he thought about asking, Arthur had already left the room again.

He showed the present to Gaius later, but his mentor only gave it a long look, raised his eyebrows, and told him to be careful not to lose it.

 

Two days later, he was readying Arthur for yet another banquet he'd have to stand through, when Arthur declared, after telling him that the clothes he'd laid out hadn't been properly tended to with a sad air that made Merlin's stomach clench, which was completely ridiculous, Arthur _always_ complained about his work:

"I've got a present for you."

"What, again?" Merlin asked.

He was wearing the medallion, though beneath his shirt half of the time, because even though Arthur had assured him it wasn't worth much, it was showy for his standards; he liked the idea of having something that marked him as belonging in Camelot, and in Arthur's household, as long as it wasn't something utterly ridiculous.

Arthur rolled his eyes at that, and disappeared in the back of the room to come back with – clothes. How had he hidden these from him, anyway?

"Here," he said, thrusting them into his hands, and starting to dress in the same clothes he'd just declared not fit for wearing moments ago.

Merlin forgot to help him over staring at the newest present: trousers and a shirt and a jacked, better material than his current clothes, he noticed immediately, running his hands over them, though not overly rich either, nothing compared to Arthur's things; not red but a slightly reddish brown. Overall, rather inconspicuous, and something he could actually imagine wearing outside of the palace.

"Thank you," he said slowly, a smile tugging at his lips; then he remembered himself, and added cautiously. "Er... is that all?"

Arthur reappeared from behind a paravent, fully dressed.

"What, not enough for you?"

"No, I just –" He trailed off and glared at Arthur, who, really, must _know_ what he was worried about. "I just wondered why you'd give me something that won't make me look completely ridiculous, sire," he explained.

"You won't look any _less_ ridiculous than usual in it," Arthur muttered.

 

Later, in the main hall, when he finally found a few moments of peace by simply ignoring Arthur for a while – no-one needed to have their glass refilled all the time before it was even half-empty – Gwen gave his new attire an appreciative glance.

"No hat?" she whispered at him.

He grinned back and laid a finger on his lips.

"Not this time. I think Arthur forgot about it."

Gwen snickered quietly.

"You've got a nice pendant," she said, looking at it as a connoisseur of such things. "Did the prince give it to you?"

Merlin nodded.

"That's great!" Gwen said, with an enthusiasm that was almost alarming, but she was the expert here, being the one who knew anything about smithy, and cast him a conspirating smile. "You must be glad."

"Er." He blinked. "I must?"

"I mean – if you don't like the pendant – but I'm sure it means something."

"It... does?" he asked, worried. If there was some convention involved here he wasn't aware of... "What?"

"Well." Gwen looked down. "You know..." She got a good look at his dumbstruck face, and her mouth stayed open in surprise. "You don't."

He shook his head helplessly.

"Oh." She nodded slightly as if coming to a realisation she couldn't quite believe yet herself. "I thought you were... But you're not."

"I'm not what?" Merlin asked, more worried by the instant.

"Nothing!" Gwen said, and Merlin didn't think he'd ever heard anyone enounce that word quite as fast. "I, er – I think Morgana wants me," she added, though Morgana wasn't even in sight, and, after a last panicked smile, vanished.

"Wait –" he called, too late, and stopped. What had _that_ been about?

 

The rest of the feast, without Gwen to chat to, passed very, very slowly; Merlin was almost wishing for Arthur to go on waving his half empty cup at him to make him scramble back and forth between the wall and the table, but the prince mostly ignored him, only glancing at him a few times, once smiling in a way that did _not_ make Merlin's knees go weak, he wasn't that far gone – or if it did, that was because he'd been standing for hours.

It was thus an almost reassuring return to his usual demeanour when, despite the fact Arthur knew about this, because Merlin had complained at length about it on other occasions (it was utterly ridiculous, why weren't he and the other servants allowed to sit down, on the floor at least? or would it really matter to any of the guests if they slumped against the wall?), he woke him up early in the morning to drag him with him on a hunting trip.

Merlin was too tired to put up much of a fight, and then too tired and annoyed to notice, for quite a while, that the trip was more pleasant than usual; it was not because they weren't creeping through sometimes thorny bushes, they were doing that right now (and it was completely unfair, Arthur had better shoes that didn't let the thorns through), nor because Arthur didn't make nonsensical hand-signs at him; no, it was, Merlin realised with a start, and was suddenly wide awake, because he wasn't carrying anything at all. A quick look confirmed that neither was Arthur: he had only his sword, which Merlin knew from experienced was unpractical for creeping through bushes, and also no good for hunting.

"Er," Merlin said cautiously when they emerged onto a path and Arthur began to lead the way in faster steps. "Arthur?"

He was positive he had not just dropped Arthur's bags and arrows and the crossbow; he was pretty sure he hadn't been told to pack anything in the first place and then left it somewhere, but he might have forgotten.

"What?" Arthur asked, turning to him; he wasn't keeping his voice down.

"You... don't have any equipment?"

"Very observant, Merlin," Arthur drawled sarcastically, which Merlin supposed he deserved for once; it was Arthur who'd woken him up before dawn after a feast, though, so it was still unfair. "Congratulations. Noticed we're in a forest yet?"

"Stop that," Merlin scolded, and caught up to be beside Arthur when they started walking again. "You said we were going hunting."

"You hate hunting," Arthur pointed out; Merlin didn't answer right away, now awake enough to be distracted by how fetching the prince looked in his usual hunting gear; Merlin rarely got to appreciate this; he found Arthur particularly insufferable during hunts, and that spoilt the attractiveness somewhat.

"Uh. Yes?" The path emerged on a small clearing. "That doesn't usually stop you." Arthur didn't answer, and walked toward the centre of the clearing with purposeful steps. "I don't like being woken up this early either," Merlin remarked, since they were already on the subject, and followed.

"Stop complaining," Arthur snapped at him, and sat down in the grass. Merlin stared at him. "Well?" Arthur looked up and gestured around impatiently. "Sit down."

Merlin didn't protest, and lowered himself onto the grass; it was still slightly wet, but quickly drying in the rising sun, and he followed suit when Arthur stretched out beside him, upper body hold up by the elbows.

"What are we doing?" Merlin asked, after having observed the way the weak sun was beginning to creep over a side of the prince's face for a while.

"Nothing."

Merlin gave him a confused look, but decided not to argue, and carefully lie down completely. When Arthur next looked at him, surprised by the lasting silence, he had fallen asleep.

 

"It's my fault that you fell asleep on the wet ground and have backaches like an old woman?"

"You're the one who dragged me out of bed!"

It had been a pleasant, peaceful morning, though Merlin had slept through most of it, up to the point where Arthur had declared they'd better get back and Merlin had stood up again; now, Arthur stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, looking all princely, and offended about the idea that Merlin might need more rest.

"I didn't tell you to fall asleep right away, did I?"

"You were there, you could have woken me up!"

"It's up to you to make sure you don't fall asleep on the job."

"Lying around in the forest is part of my job?" Merlin snapped, and then paused and thought the phrasing over.

"Everything is," Arthur said, with an arrogant tilt of the head.

"That's not fair."

Arthur smirked smugly, apparently of the opinion that no, it wasn't, and that this won him the argument.

"Get me a warm bath," he ordered. "You can have it when I'm finished."

Merlin opened his mouth to argue back, then decided to let it drop for now, and left the room with a sigh.

He gave orders to have hot water brought to the prince's chambers, went to the kitchen to grab something to eat, sat down for a bit, ran into Gwen, and eventually returned to the room to find Arthur standing in the centre of it, still wet, water dripping from his hair, and stark naked.

Blood rushed to and then from his face at amazing speed.

He'd seen Arthur naked before, of course, but only incidentally, never like this, standing there glistering with water and _staring_ at him with an intensity usually reserved for dangerous enemies.

"Uhm," Merlin managed; his mouth was dry. "Do you want me to – leave? Help you get dressed?"

Arthur looked him up and down slowly.

"No," he said.

Merlin swallowed, and, okay, this couldn't just be – this _had_ to be an invitation, he wasn't imagining things, and he could see that Arthur was slightly aroused, and –

It took no effort at all the cross the space between them, press his body against Arthur's and his lips on his, and immediately Arthur put one hand around him and the other on his head, and pulled at his hair to drag his head lower, and kissed back hungrily.

Merlin closed his eyes and let sensation wash over him, and barely registered it when Arthur manoeuvred them towards the bed in between wet, open-mouthed kisses, until his knees bumped against its edge; he let himself fall down, and looked up at Arthur who crawled above him, an intent, intense look in his eyes that made Merlin's dawning smile vanish again and he stilled, staring right back with a kind of awe.

Arthur froze above him.

"Merlin? Are you – you know you don't have to go along with this, right?"

"I don't – what?" Merlin stared back dumbly, and needed a moment to understand what Arthur was even talking about. "Of course I don't – wait, you think you could _order_ me to have sex with you?"

"Of course I could," Arthur said, sounding affronted, but there was a relieved look on his face.

"Shut up," Merlin muttered, and dragged Arthur unto the bed; he didn't feel like giving a lecture on what should fall under being amazingly noble and what under common decency right then. "Don't start – I've wanted this for –" He cut himself off by pulling the prince into a kiss.

Arthur shifted his weight onto him, legs still hanging over the bed, and kissed him back, and for a moment this was back to pure bliss; then, of course, this being Arthur, he drew back and said, in an annoyed tone:

"Why didn't you _say_ anything!?"

"I – what?" Merlin sputtered. "Why didn't _you_?"

Arthur half-opened his mouth and closed it again and stared at him in utter disbelief, and suddenly a lot of things became clearer to Merlin.

"Oh," he said.

"Yes," said Arthur, through grit teeth, and heaved himself up onto the bed completely.

"The presents?"

"Yes."

"And you not being a total prat."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh," Merlin just repeated. And then, suddenly, he was grinning like an idiot. "Sorry," he said, sounding very insincere and not caring. "I just never thought..."

"It's not funny," Arthur muttered and pulled him closer again, and that just made Merlin want to laugh out loud. "You're completely hopeless," he added, fondly, and drew a hand though his hair carefully. "Your bath is getting cold, you know."

"I don't want it," Merlin said, still grinning, and dragged his own lower legs up into the bed, and added happily: "You can give me a massage instead."

Arthur made a face.

"Do you remember who I _am_?"

Merlin grinned brightly at him, and Arthur decided to cut off the doubtlessly insolent response that was coming by kissing him again.


End file.
